Ten Years
by Catgy
Summary: What happens if Neria Surana meets King Alistair in Skyhold? One-shot.


**_A/N:_** _I wrote this on a whim when I was bored and struck by inspiration: what happens if a romanced warden who was dumped by Alistair post-Landsmeet in Origins came to seek him out when he visited Skyhold? Enjoy!_

* * *

Neria Surana pulled her hood over her head and leant gingerly against the damp parapet, her eyes on several figures standing in the courtyard of Skyhold.

From afar she had spotted him already; tall and regal, clad in simple armour that belied his status as the most powerful man in Ferelden. King Alistair stood there, in the courtyard, talking to the Inquisitor – a certain Lady Evelyn Trevelyan, if Neria had heard correctly – and Anora was thankfully not with him.

A light breeze picked up and threatened to pull back her hood but she tugged it back in place as she eyed the exchange. And then Alistair was making his way up the stairs, the Inquisitor laughing by his side as she sought to give him a formal welcome in her halls, and not out in the open like a common soldier.

Neria took a step back as she watched him ascend the steps, completely oblivious to the little presence near the bushes below that was observing his every movement. She felt a pang of bitterness rise in her throat as she thought of what could have been but what could never be. If she were queen – she would be with him every single day, every single waking hour, never leaving his side. It would be her ascending the steps next to her king and Lady Trevelyan now - if only she were not an elf and not a mage. Of all things, an elf mage; she reflected sardonically. Not one, but two things that kept her from being by his side.

That, and Alistair's sense of propriety. She admired that part of him, of course, but as she leant against the parapet and looked about idly, she could not help but feel that if he loved her as much as he truly claimed, he wouldn't have left her in the first place - duty and propriety or not.

She snorted. _Excuses, then_. But yet, here she was, clinging onto a crazy lost hope, many leagues from where she was supposed to be, many leagues that she had traversed the past week when she had heard he would be visiting Skyhold, many leagues from her quest of finding a cure for the Grey Wardens. The mantle of responsibility fell heavy on her shoulder and for a moment Neria Surana was angry. For a moment.

It passed as she relaxed; Skyhold truly was a beautiful place, a stone citadel in the lonely and cold but magnificent mountains. The air was clear and fresh, laughter audible, and she had to admit that she would feel light and free, if she were a different person and not here on her personal quest as she currently was.

She watched as Alistair was led out shortly, escorted across the courtyard by a beaming Lady Trevelyan as she brought him to the guest chambers on the other side of the courtyard. And then she followed.

* * *

The hallways were quiet as Neria tiptoed towards the room at the end. She was no rogue and she obviously knew that; but it didn't hurt to remain as silent as possible. She swallowed hard as she neared the mahogany door, and was surprised when she realised there were no guards protecting the King of Ferelden. She raised an eyebrow as she paused outside the door, and time seemed to still as she raised a timid fist – and knocked.

"Who's that?" Alistair's voice, loud and clear. Her stomach churned.

She froze, and wet her lips, clearing her throat slightly to ease her nervousness. "Delivery of complimentary cheese."

A pause, and then his voice rang out once more, with a hint of a smile: "Come in."

She entered the room and closed the door behind her quickly, cheeseless and ashamed of her duplicity, as Alistair, sitting by the fireplace, stood up and stared at her, the blade he had been polishing clattering to the wooden floor.

He recognised her immediately, a look of pain crossing his face momentarily. "Neria." He said softly, the elven syllables rolling off his tongue.

"Alistair." She paused, her eyes flickering up to meet his, and then at the simple brown armour he wore and the blade he carried, now lying on the floor by the fireplace with a ragged and well-worn polishing cloth, reminiscent of their times back at camp, ten years ago. _Old habits die hard._ She reminded herself to breathe.

"What are you doing here?" His voice was firm, a hint of a frown – or confusion – on his handsome features, his brows furrowed, and Neria was both heartened and saddened to see the crease lines on his face, maturity and responsibility as one.

"I came...to talk to you." Neria said bluntly, not knowing how else to put it.

"Here? You followed me? All the way...here?" Alistair paced towards the fireplace slowly as he gestured around the room, and she knew he was referring to Skyhold. She swallowed as he neared his sword.

"It's been ten years."

"Ten years too long. Or too short." He raised an eyebrow at her, feigned indifference on his face as he stared into the fire, the light illuminating his profile. Neria's breath hitched. "Ten years as king on a throne I didn't want." He paused, hesitating, and the unspoken words hung in the silent room. _Ten years without you._

"I wanted to stay with you," Neria protested, her eyes moistening already.

"We couldn't."

"But you said your duty stopped you. _Your duty_." Neria began, but stopped, her voice choking, a single fat tear rolling down her cheek.

" _You_ made me king, even though I didn't want to. _You_ made me marry another woman, even though I didn't want to. And now _you_ lecture me on duty and responsibility?"

"I didn't make you do anything. You could have said no." Her reply came out sharper than intended and she stiffened. _You should have said no_ , she reflected sadly. "But you're right. I don't even know why I came here, looking for you. Maybe it was all a mistake. Maybe what we had ten years ago was a mistake. Maybe we shouldn't have fallen in love." She all but yelled, tears streaming down her face, her body wracked by choking sobs as she let herself go.

Alistair stood there dumbly, a lump in his throat, unsure of what to say. The divide between coherent thought and tangible action seemed then like a giant, yawning chasm. A yawning chasm that threatened to swallow him up.

He cleared his throat slightly. "You really shouldn't have come. You should be out there, continuing on your search for a cure, for Grey Wardens everywhere." He said in his best kingly voice, but yet his courage and conviction faltered when he caught sight of her once more. Neria had her head bent down, her blond hair messy and tousled, the tips of her ears sticking out, and Alistair suddenly felt that she looked so vulnerable once more, like the time they first met in Ostagar.

"I missed you." Neria replied lamely, all fire in her gone as she looked up at him, her eyes tired and world-weary, rimmed by dark eye circles that contrasted sharply with her pale face. Alistair startled, for he realised then that she seemed a shell of her former self, a shell of the girl he once knew – and whom he had fallen in love with – ten years ago. It felt like an eternity.

"You're not allowed to say that. I took ten years to forget you." He had wanted to sound convincing, wanted to sound firm, but yet his wavering voice betrayed him, his rebuttal flimsy and weak.

"I know." She said softly, her voice cracking, and she sounded utterly defeated. It pained Alistair. "I guess..." She breathed as she held back tears. "I guess my biggest mistake was letting you go."

And with that, she turned to leave, her shoulders slumped.

She had barely made it all of one step when Alistair grabbed her from behind and held her, his arms rough and protective against her. "Maybe this time _I_ won't let you go."

She froze against him, her body stiff, and Alistair shut his eyes as he held her close. "Neria Surana, I've waited ten goddamned years for this moment."

"You broke up with me." Neria observed in quiet disbelief.

"I would have taken that back - all you had to do was say a word – say any word, anything! – and I would have said no, would have taken you in my arms and never let you go. _But you left_." He turned her around to face him, his hands on either side of her face, and he wiped away her tears with his thumbs.

Neria shook her head, her hands pushing his off. "No. _You_ broke up with me." She took a step back and met his brown eyes with her sad ones. Silence hung between them, heavy and thick.

"I'm sorry." He said finally.

"Alistair, I –"

"For tonight, can we at least pretend the past ten years have never happened? Can we at least pretend that things have not changed?"

"We can't pretend. It's all real. The past ten years have happened, things have changed. You have changed. I have changed." Anger rose in her again as she shook her head, backing off towards the door.

"My love for you hasn't changed." He said loudly, and she stared at him, her mouth open slightly. Her hand, on the door knob, fell uselessly to her side as she felt an overwhelming urge to cover the distance between them and press her lips to his. "Please, Neria. Please forgive me."

He came to her then, taking her small hands in his rough ones, and then he drew her into a hug as he patted her back gently. Neria felt a traitor tear slip down her cheek as she pressed against his shoulder, feeling like she would collapse against him. "Alistair..."

"Stay with me tonight, Neria. Please." His voice was soft and almost hesitant, so little like the king she saw now and so much more like the Grey Warden she had fought alongside ten years ago. The Grey Warden who had shared her joys and sorrows, the Grey Warden who had been her pillar, her anchor, the Grey Warden who had made his way into her bed and heart. She shivered slightly, feeling him tense against her in anticipation for her response.

He was right. Maybe she _could_ pretend the past ten years had never happened. Maybe she _could_ pretend that things had not changed. Maybe, by pretending, she could convince herself that things really haven't changed and that they could go back to the way they were.

Maybe, for tonight, they could go back ten years in time, ten long years ago. An eternity.

She pulled back to look at him, her face tilted just so; slowly, imperceptibly slowly, she leant close, breathing in his sweet heady scent. Closing her eyes she could almost imagine being back at camp once more, the sweet sickly smell that clung to his armour and shirt after long hours in the sun and of battle. And then his lips were on hers; chaste and gentle, satin lips pressed against her own as the memories flooded back to her. Their first meeting, their first hug, their first kiss, their first night; she felt positively light-headed as she lost herself in the kiss, and instead clung to him, her rock and protector, Grey Warden and now, king.

She felt the edge of the bed jut into the back of her knee, unaware that they had _moved_ during the kiss, and she fell back onto the bed, Alistair on top of her. She pulled him towards her and ran her fingers through his hair as he wiped away any more tears she had. He pulled back to look at her, his face smiling and suddenly looking very boyish, and Neria blushed.

"I missed you so much," she blurted out again, her voice barely a whisper. "Am I allowed to say that now?" A slight smile crossed her face momentarily. She could hardly believe this was happening.

"Yes, my Neria. I missed you so much, too." He admitted finally, his face red as she fiddled absently with the ties holding his hood in place. The hood fell to the bed, crumpled, and Alistair leant in and murmured against her ear, the scruff of his chin tickling her cheek, his voice low with the veiled promise of a long night of passion. "And for tonight, I'm yours."

For the first time in years, a genuinely happy smile crossed Neria Surana's face as she sighed contentedly and pulled her lover towards her.

* * *

When Alistair rose the next morning the bed next to him was empty, Neria nowhere in sight. He looked about; his clothes were laid neatly on an armchair nearby, and the fire had been rekindled, warming the room. He padded over to the armchair, where a letter and a rose lay on his clothes.

With a trembling hand he picked the rose up and sniffed it. Not exactly the freshest, but considering that no roses grew anywhere near Skyhold... He tore open the letter and read.

 _My dearest Alistair,_

 _By the time you read this I will be long gone, and back on my quest to help Grey Wardens everywhere._

Neria Surana paused for breath at the top of a rocky outcrop, before the path turned around the mountain and made its way eastward down towards warmer ground. Snow flurries fell about her as she pulled her cloak closer to her and adjusted her travelling pack. Skyhold stood in the far distance, still visible from the outcrop, a two hour walk away along the only winding mountain path. A few more steps around the corner and Skyhold would no longer be in sight, obscured by the tall mountains.

 _I found this rose on my way to Skyhold, and thought of you. And of the rose you gave me ten long years ago. I still keep it with me, wrapped in a piece of silk in my satchel. I thought maybe this time, I could return the favour._

She sighed, a small smile crossing her face as she looked at the stone fortress, wondering whether Alistair had awakened – and whether he had read her letter. She leant against her staff as she squinted at the little windows peeking out of the fortress, wondering whether her king was looking out of any of them.

 _I don't know whether I'll ever see you again. But I know that I love you, even now, ten years later. I don't think I can ever stop loving you. I'm sorry._

"Goodbye, Alistair, my king and love." She whispered softly, a wistful look on her face as she turned the corner, and Skyhold and her king disappeared from sight as she began her descent down the cold mountain path alone.

 _Always watching from afar, your elven mage and Grey Warden forever in heart, soul, and body,_

 _Neria Surana_

Alistair folded the letter and held the rose tenderly to his chest; in the privacy of his room, he began to cry.


End file.
